


retain that dear perfection

by sleepinnude



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, i have a lot of feelings about names and dumb things, just a vehicle for my bruce/steve feelings, this story is a nonevent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepinnude/pseuds/sleepinnude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone calls him "Captain" these days. Almost everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	retain that dear perfection

He’s started responding to Captain again. It slips from Natasha’s lips between a rare smile as she passes him on her way out of the kitchen, tea in hand. Clint drops it with a hint of challenge, asking for a little one-on-one sparring. Thor gives it a definitive article, The Captain, as if Steve were the only one around, and it’s usually with a boom. Tony tosses it out casually, sometimes even shortening it to a nearly affectionate “Cap,” as he asks for biometric measures… And to be honest that’s usually about when Steve’s eyes go hazy.

Bruce calls him Steve.

Bruce looking up from his tablet with his glasses hanging valiantly on to his nose and smiling that short, self-conscious little smile and saying “Hi, Steve. What’re you doing down here?” Bruce scrubbing at the line at the middle of his forehead and telling him, “Might as well just let him, Steve.” Bruce fumbling with some measuring device in the background and asking, “Steve? Tell me none of this smells a little funky to you?” Bruce pressing a hand between his shoulders and prompting, “Breathe, Steve. You’re all right. Just breathe.”

“Steve?”

He looks up and already knows who’s there. Of course he does. “Hey, Bruce,” he says with a soft smile touching his lips. There’s some reality show playing over the screen but it’s low, practically mute. In his lap, Steve has a sketchpad.

Bruce ducking below his curls and blushing under his collar and greeting low, “Hi there, Steve.” Bruce looking down at the hand laying over his own and asking, a little short of breath, “Steve?” Bruce falling against pillows with sweat painted over his temples and a gaping smile, laughing out, “Well. Is it appropriate to thank you after that, Steve?”

Bruce paces over to the couch Steve has settled himself in and leans in, bracing one strong hand against the back cushion. Steve grins up at him, waiting. A smile makes it way across Bruce’s face and he throws a laugh to the side. Steve can’t help but mirror it, something soft and airy. And then Bruce is tipping in, kissing him. Kissing him, not the living legend. Kissing Steve.

Bruce waking slow and into peering morning light and looking down at the soft blue eyes across the pillow from him, smiling and mumbling sleepily, “Good morning, Steve.”

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from Romeo and Juliet (II.ii) because that's the kind of person I am


End file.
